A Mind of His Own
by Midou-kun
Summary: Hikaru confesses Sai's existance to Touya, but does not get the support he expected. Torn between illusion and reality, Hikaru starts losing sight of whether or not he believes himself. RR!
1. Voices

**Preface**

****

Ever seen the movie '**A Beautiful Mind'**? If not, go and watch it. Right now. Besides featuring a wonderful go scene 9 minutes and 3 seconds into it, it also carries a powerful message and haunting question – who draws the line between illusion and reality? 

More than just the basis of that masterpiece movie is carried over into this fic—that same message, that same question is asked. Of course, it is not answered—if '**A Beautiful Mind**' can't, I sure won't try. But it's a question that I hope will dwell in your mind, at the very least. 

This fic is angsty, dark, and everything Hikaru no Go isn't. I have a habit of doing that. However, I'm hoping this fic will lend a lot the Hikaru no Go community. 

**Special Thanks to: **The Toriyama World forums, for debating with me, a long time ago, the question of Sai's existence. And, of course, all the readers and reviewers! =)

Enjoy! ^^

**CHAPTER 1: VOICES**

_"Reality is only an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."_

_                        Albert Einstein_

****

            Hikaru firmly fastened the sleeve button and tightened his tie to an uncomfortable firmness. Giving his collar one last adjustment, he turned towards the mirror. The image of a mature boy gazed back at him, his blonde hair covering his face, yet a set of brilliant green eyes penetrating the golden barrier, full of determination. His blue suit and pants, along with a tie, denoted an event of great importance. A title match, perhaps. Or an interview for the Yomiuri Newspaper.

            But no, this was much more important than any of that. At least to him it was. 

            The boy closed his eyes, breathed deeply, exhaling. 

            Three years. Three _years_! Was this what he had had in mind that fateful day when he had promised his rival his most recondite secret? Had he realized the consequences of that one binding vow, or had it been another rash, impulsive whim of his youth, like so many others? His memories of that time, seemingly so long ago, had grown dim. It was all rose-tinted, and Hikaru didn't trust himself to know what had really happened anymore, so why would anyone else?

            '_Calm,' _the boy told himself. '_He'll believe you.' _Hikaru straightened his tie, and that one gesture silenced the nagging voices of doubt that had tormented him for so long. 

            The sound of Hikaru's door being opened, and the boy's descent down the stairs, alerted his mother, who came out of the kitchen to look at him.

            "Oh, you have a match today?"

            "No." He answered simply, grabbing a light coat off the rack.

            "A date?" She asked hopefully.

            The boy narrowed his eyes as he donned his shoes, glaring at his mother. "Hardly. I'm going to Touya's salon."

            This news seemed to slightly disturb his mother. Her brow creased vaguely into a frown, but she quickly repressed it, and went back to work.

            The sounds of city life eased Hikaru's nerves. The voices of the multitudes did much to quiet the voices in his own mind. Voices of doubt.

            It was finally time. Hikaru had put it off for long enough. That "someday" he had promised Touya in the first preliminary of the Honinbou match had drawn up. It was a secret that he could no longer keep inside him, lest he should forget it had ever existed. And there was, of course, only one person who deserved to hear it. Only one person who would understand, who would feel as strongly about it as Hikaru did.

             He paused in his walk. Slowly, he turned around. Turned back.

            He couldn't do this. No way. It was too unbelievable.

            Hikaru's journey was continually plagued by voices. Voices of dissent. _"Touya-kun will believe you," _he told himself. _"He guessed it earlier by himself, too. He's on your side."_

_            "Nobody could believe it!"_

_            "Do you believe it yourself?"_

            Silencing the voices, he determinedly spun around once more and crossed the rest of the distance.          

            Touya Akira turned his head at the sound of the cash register ringing. Another customer had been checked in. 

            At the first second, Touya almost didn't recognize him, all dressed in blue and in a fancy tie. But an instant later, he identified the newcomer. He raised an eyebrow in mild amusement as Hikaru crossed the room and plopped into the chair across from him. "What's with—?" Akira smirked.

            Hikaru looked up from the hand that had been covering his features, and a sad, frightened eye met Akira's gaze through his fingers, making him gasp. He had never seen his friend with such a desperate expression on his face.

            "Shindou! What's wrong?"

            "Touya-kun, there's… something I've come to tell you. You have to understand." His voice was shaky, his face pallid. He looked at Akira with pleading eyes, as if this meeting had taken everything he had.

            He reeled in confusion. "Calm down, what's wrong? Here, sit." He motioned for Hikaru to sit down in the chair across the table, usually reserved for the students of the young player.

            "Touya-kun, do you remember…" he ran a hand through his hair, calmed his nerves. Breathing deeply, he continued. "Do you remember what happened three years ago?"

            Akira knew exactly what had been special about three years ago, but pretended to think about it. "I don't know… our Honinbou Preliminary match? The Hokuto Cup?"

            "Our… first match."

            "That wasn't our first match," Akira said uneasily. "We played a few times before that." But already, alarm bells had begun to ring in his head. The games before that had all been special games—games in which he had sensed that other presence, that presence that still made itself known in Shindou's moves, every time they played.

            "No, it was… our first _real_ match." This admission seemed to cause Hikaru a lot of pain.

            "I don't understand," Akira continued the game, but inside, he had become as tense and alert as his friend. This was it. Finally, he would know. 

            "You were right, Touya-kun, when you said there was… another me."

            His eyes narrowed. Memories, pushed away—_Sai… is inside of you. The other you. _"I don't understand," he lied.

            Hikaru's voice lowered to a trembling whisper. "Yes you do…"   

*****

            Touya slowly slid the thin door closed behind him. He kicked his outdoor shoes off his feet, slamming them against the wall, missing the rack by metres. He slid his backpack off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

            He paced slowly to his room, not announcing his arrival to the rest of the household. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard—it couldn't be true. Of the account's fallacy he had no doubt, but Shindou's sincerity was still uncertain. Touya did not want to consider Hikaru a liar, but the alternative was insanity. 

            _He could be telling the truth_

            No. Voices of insanity. He can't.

            _Yes he could. You had the same notion yourself a few years ago. _

            Years ago. A rash, missed attack against Shindou. Touya had never believed his own implausible claims. No, of course not. Shindou was lying.

            But in his mind's eye, Touya could see the boy's shaking hands, his dilated pupils, beads of sweat clinging to his brow. That could not be manufactured. Touya had never seen his friend like that. 

            _"You were right about me, Akira-kun,"_ he remembered Hikaru's words of earlier that afternoon. _"There was someone else inside me,  just like you guessed. That person that you first played here… at this table. That was the other me…"_

Touya didn't want to remember the rest of the discourse. Shindou had been shivering in fear the whole time, and it had ended with Akira storming angrily out of the salon and out onto the street. 

            He remembered the first game they'd had, the humiliating defeat he'd suffered at Shindou's inexperienced hands. Shindou's confession certainly explained that. It explained everything. It was perfect.

            _No_, Touya thought. _He's joking. _But still, he couldn't get Shindou's paralyzed eyes out of his mind. They pleaded belief, radiated sincerity. He couldn't ignore them. Deeply disturbed, he lay down onto his thin mattress. 

            That night felt like an eternity.


	2. Mistakes

            **Chapter 2: Mistakes**

Isumi read deep into the board, trying to ignore the irritating tick of the byo-yomi clock next to him. The task of filtering out unwanted noise became even more difficult as Waya opened a can of soft drink from across the board, gulping it noisily. "C'mon, Isumi-kun. You're almost on your last time period."

            Ignoring his opponent's words, Isumi took out a black stone from the bowl and placed it on the wood, an interesting double-purpose move that would force white to choose what function his stones would serve. A passive defensive move would fix white's shape and guarantee a base, but give black free reign in the center. An attachment, on the other hand, would sacrifice stability for a leaning attack on the opponent, a fight that would likely decide the game. Isumi looked at the match clock as he signalled the end of his turn. He had two periods left, of thirty seconds each. His opponent still had 10 minutes of main time for the upcoming fight. It would be difficult, but Isumi's lead was substantial enough that minor mistakes would not turn the tide.

            Looking up momentarily, he could see that Waya was in a moment of turmoil, doubtless contemplating the crossroad Isumi had laid before him. Chewing nervously on his bottom lip, Waya took a white stone and attached. Hitting the match clock, he looked up to meet Isumi's eyes, a mischievous grin on his face. 

            Isumi met the challenge, playing a hane almost immediately. He couldn't afford to waste much time thinking about pre-determined moves. He was on the clock. He smacked the timer quickly, and set his mind to working out variations while the time went down for his opponent.

            After another second of thought, white played his next move, an alternative Isumi had considered. He countered quickly, waited for the response. Instead of blocking the thrust Isumi had made, Waya had simply extended. No matter how Isumi looked at it, it was a bad move. If he pushed through, there was no way white could keep his stones connected. It would be a matter of a few simple moves, and white's shape would crumble. It was an elementary mistake, one that Isumi thought Waya above. 

            He looked up at his opponent. Instead of the dawning look of recognition he expected from Waya's face, there was a predatory look. He seemed as if though victory was now assured. Rattled, Isumi's face turned back towards the board. 

            No way. There was _nothing_ white could do. The extension had been a horrible move and that was all there was too it. But Isumi had too much respect for his friend to believe that such a mistake could go unnoticed for so long. He re-read the position, trying to think of all the outlandish schemes Waya might have up his sleeve, but came up with nothing. His brow creased in concentration, as his whole being focused on the stones.

            "You lose," Waya said, getting up out of the uncomfortable stance he had been sitting in.

            Isumi's head shot up, torn out of the cage of his mind. "What?"

            Stretching, Waya pointed one hand at the match clock. "Time's up, pal. You thought about my move for a minute."

            As external influences began to rush back to Isumi's head, he began to recognize the sound of the match clock beeping insanely, a sound which he had previously tuned out. He looked at Waya incredulously. "But, that move was horrible!"

            He smirked. "Of course it was. You'd already read out all the _good_ moves."

            Isumi couldn't remove the look of horror from his face for three seconds as he struggled to comprehend the extent of his opponent's underhandedness. 

           "You can take that as my resignation," Waya nodded sullenly towards the board. "It was all over for me, so I figured, 'what the heck.'"

            Isumi looked back and forth between the clock, the board, and his friend, trying to decide who to trust. "I…" he breathed. "am going to kill you."

            Waya's face broke into a grin. "I scared you that bad, huh? Getting pretty uptight over a friendly game, aren't you, Isumi? To the untrained eye, it might even seem that you're scared of losing to me."

            "To the untrained eye it seems like you're living in an apartment that doesn't even have a fridge in it, forget a stove, washing machine or toilet."

            "Maybe to the _untrained_ eye, it might." Waya admitted. "But anyone who really knows me can tell that you're ordering out." He tossed Isumi the phone. "Call that great Ramen-place on the corner. And feel free to buy the most expensive stuff you can afford, you're paying."

            Isumi shook his head, smiling, as he dragged the phone book that was lying on Waya's cluttered apartment floor towards him, opening it up. "What is this, winner pays? That's interesting."

            Waya shrugged as he gulped what was left in his pop can. Crushing it in his fist, he tossed it in the garbage can and walked back to the goban, and began clearing it of the stones. He listened as Isumi ordered two portions of ramen, and more pop for Waya's apartment. An idea struck him, and he kicked Isumi's leg to get his attention. Isumi looked up to see his friend frantically waving three fingers in his face.

            "_Three ramen?" he inquired in a whisper, his hand over the receiver._

            Waya nodded eagerly. 

            "Why?"

            He mouthed back the word _Shindou_, and went off to the bathroom. Shrugging, Isumi took his hand off the phone and told the restaurant to add another bowl to the order.

            Hikaru looked up at his ceiling, unable to erase from his mind the encounter. It was no good, Touya didn't believe him. That meant nobody else would believe him. 

            He threw the go stone he had been clutching in his fist at the ceiling, still lying on his bed. With a satisfying knock, it stopped against the wood and flew back down into his waiting, outstretched arm. He threw it again, welcoming any distraction from the turmoil of fear and confusion inside his head. 

            A knocking, not from go stone on ceiling, distracted him from catching it on it's way down. He turned his head towards the door, his cheek pressed up against his pillow. The stone fell and hit him on the side of the head, drawing a curse.

            The knocking at the door continued. "Come in!" Hikaru said, his voice hoarse from disuse. 

            The door creaked open, and two familiar heads peered through the open space. Hikaru's head lolled back up towards the ceiling as he groaned. Guests were the last thing he needed.

            "Oi, Shindou!" Waya called from across the room. Hikaru closed his eyes. He could hear the door to his room being shut, and two pairs of feet crossing the carpeted floor to his bedside. "Shindou-kun?" Isumi poked his prostrate body.

            Hikaru groaned in reply, not moving.

            "We brought you some ramen!" his friend said, and Hikaru could hear the crinkling of a bag, the aroma of noodles assaulting his senses, but he did not move, silently willing them away. 

            Waya turned to face Isumi, a worried look on his face. "We mention Ramen and still he sleeps? Is he dead?"

           Isumi shot a furtive glance to the goban lying in the middle of Hikaru's room, before turning back to look at his friend.

            "Guys…" Hikaru lolled his head to the side, and opened his eyes to look at them for the first time. He could see their shocked expressions, and he imagined it had something to do with the hollow, weary look his eyes doubtless bore. "Do you remember, about four or five years ago… that really strong player on the internet?"

            Isumi looked at Waya. "Yak? Tartrate? Who does he mean?" he inquired. But Waya was focusing intently on Hikaru's face. "Sai?"

            Hikaru nodded slowly. Isumi looked back and forth between them, confused. "Who's sai?"

            "I've told you about him a thousand times, Isumi-kun," Waya turned his attention momentarily. "Nobody knows _who_ he is, but he was on the internet a while back. He beat Touya Meijin in an even match once."

            Isumi couldn't help but look surprised at this, but kept his eyes on Shindou. "Waya, you once said I reminded you of Sai…"

            Waya nodded.

            "You even thought I _was_ Sai for a while, ne?"

            Although he could not see where this was going, he nodded again. "You still remind me of him, Shindou-kun. Every time I play you, I see glimpses of him, of Honinbou Shuusaku."

            "What would you say," Shindou said in a tired voice, "if I told you I was Sai?"

            Waya looked nervously at Isumi. "That… you're crazy?"

            _"You're lying!"  _Touya shouted at the top of his lungs. Members of the go salon shot dirty looks up from their boards until they saw who was causing the commotion, and respectfully turned back towards their boards. __

_            Hikaru shrunk into his seat, with the look of a small child that had been expecting the worst and gotten it. The doubts and fears of the past week came rushing back at him, and for a moment, he considered tearing out of the room, running from his problems again. Instead, he looked up, frightened. "No, I'm not… that's who Sai was."_

_            Touya focused his angry eyes on Shindou, trying to gauge him. Was he sincere? He had the look of a caged animal, and Touya could do nothing but pity him. "Then you're crazy!" He shot back._

_            Hikaru looked down sullenly. "Yeah. Maybe."_

"Yeah… maybe." 

            Isumi shot a dirty look towards Waya, mentally signalling him to shut up. "Why, Shindou-kun? Is there anything you want to tell us?"

            For a brief second, Hikaru considered giving it another shot. The memories of his old friend made him feel the need to tell _someone_ and have them believe him.

            _"Shindou…" Touya looked as worn-out and mentally exhausted as the person across from him. "You can't… I__ can't… NOBODY WILL BELIEVE THIS!"_

_            Hikaru shook his head, eager to appease Akira and run away. "I don't need anyone else to believe this, Touya. I just need you to accept it, to know it. Sai deserves it, you deser--"_

_            "SHUT UP!" _

Hikaru rolled his head back and forth, attempting to shake his head on the bed. "No, Isumi-kun. Nothing."

            Waya sighed. "I don't know what that was about. Here, Shindou." He tossed up a lidded bowl onto the bed, where it made a small bounce before landing near Hikaru's side. "Some ramen."

            Hikaru made no movement to pick up the bowl, but instead just closed his eyes again, wishing he were alone once more.

            Waya and Isumi once more exchanged worried glances. Hikaru turning down free ramen was similarly unbelievable to Touya Akira expressing a sudden desire to take up professional ballet.

            "You know," Waya began, trying in some way to pique Hikaru's interest. "A while after Sai disappeared from the 'net, another fake Sai started logging on."

            Hikaru's eyes shot open and he stared at Waya intently. He did not know what that could mean, but it was unusual nonetheless.

            Glad that he had his attention, Waya continued. "Yeah, the same name. Of course, he was a total fluke—the guy was still a low-kyu player, absolutely horrible. Couldn't light a candle to the _real _Sai."

            _  Disappointed, Hikaru closed his eyes again. For just a brief instant, he'd let himself believe that Sai had returned. But those were dangerous thoughts that he'd long ago learned to ignore._

            "He just didn't have that _touch_, y'know?" Waya continued. "That distinctive playing style. You know… _your_ playing style, Shindou-kun." There was a provocative edge to his voice.

            These words comforted Hikaru, who for the first time that day, let a smile creep to his lips. "Yeah… he did, didn't he?" He looked at his goban, remembering the hundreds of games he'd played with his old teacher, the natural process of osmosis that had taken place. "You up for a game?"

            Waya was taken aback. "Game? Now?" Hikaru's sudden cheering up had been unexpected, but the bright, familiar look in Hikaru's eyes was unmistakable. "Yeah, sure.. I guess."  
            Yawning loudly, Hikaru swung his legs over the edge of the bed, walked to the goban, and sat down. Waya did likewise across the board, and Isumi sat on the side, silently.

            Hikaru took a fistful of stones, placed them on the board, covered by his hand. Waya removed one black stone from his bowl, and said "Even." Removing his hand, Hikaru counted six white stones. "I'm black," he said, throwing the stones back into the bowl. He took just one out, and put it on the top right star.

            His opponent took just a moment to think before playing on the opposite star. Opting for the Chinese fuseki, Hikaru played the far komoku. Waya occupied the last corner.

            The fuseki was carried out normally, but the middle-game brought them into a vicious fight. An invasion by white threatened to kill a key group of black's stones. Isumi watched the game with interest. Waya's invasion was a slight overplay, and Hikaru could probably make a lot of profit from white's mistake. However, as the game unfolded, Isumi began to wonder what black was thinking. Instead of attacking the invading stone viciously, revealing it for the overplay it was, Hikaru had allowed it to run towards the center, making small strengthening plays, defending where he was not being attacked. Like in his game earlier with Waya, Isumi suspected some ulterior strategy, some brilliant move would rise from the ashes of black's stones. 

            Hikaru watched with horror as white lived easily, connecting across the board. How had he not read that? He had learned that sequence years ago!

            Determined to gain back his lead, Hikaru made a desperate wedge play, ignoring the look of shock on both of his friends' faces. He knew it was an overplay, a really long shot, but after such a crucial mistake it couldn't be helped. He watched intently as white played atari from the top. Hikaru calmly extended, his mind working furiously, working out solutions and alternate paths. Seeing a way, he seized it by eagerly cross-cutting Waya's block. The only move was an extension by white, after which Hikaru could atari and push Waya down into a ladder. After that the position would be difficult, but at least Hikaru would be back in the game.

            Hikaru waited for the extension. After a minute of thought, Waya took a stone and, instead of extending, captured a 10-stone chain of black stones. Hikaru's head shot up, shocked. Waya's fingers were still holding the stone in place, and the disbelief on his face mirrored Hikaru's.

            "You just… you just put yourself in atari." Waya whispered.


	3. Reality

            **CHAPTER 3: Reality**

            _"I'm not crazy!"_

_                        -John Nash (A Beautiful Mind)_

Touya Akira was not in prime shape. Since Hikaru had told him about Sai, he had not come to the salon anymore, and his rival's absence was taking it's toll. Besides the mental workout Shindou gave him every time they played, Akira was fraught with worry. Just how badly had he insulted his friend? Why had Hikaru come up with such an elaborate lie in the first place?

            Shaking questions from his conscious mind, he focused his attention back to the game he was studying. It was, ironically enough, the game between Shindou Hikaru and Ko Yongha, Japan's final round of the North Star Cup. It was a game of his that Touya particularly admired for it's bravery and ingenuity, even though Hikaru ultimately lost it. Even though Touya was in a room surrounded by old men with cigars, their grumbling adages mixing with the smoke in the air to produce a decidedly stagnant atmosphere, the energy and vitality of the players could be felt with each move. Go was truly a game that transcended the bounds of time and space – this game was like a snapshot in time of Shindou Hikaru, the player that Touya had always trusted, respected, and admired. Until now.

            "Mind if I take a seat?" A dejected voice said from behind Akira. He jumped up out of his chair, his knee knocking the edge of the table, shaking the stones without actually moving them out of place. He turned around, to see Shindou standing there, a mourning look in his eyes. "Shindou," Touya breathed. He motioned to the seat across, nodding. 

            Hikaru passed the table in two quick steps, throwing himself down into the chair. The look Shindou had on his face was reminiscent of the last time he had entered the salon, but both hoped it would not have the same results.

            Hikaru nodded towards the board, breaking the expectant silence. "Replaying a game?"  
            Touya nodded, then realized with a start whose game it was he was replaying, and jumped to remove the stones before it was noticed.

            "Whose game is that?" Hikaru asked curiously, looking at the stones with an inexperienced glance. Touya's hand stopped on the first stone before removing it. He stayed his arm three seconds, waiting for the look of recognition on Hikaru's face—it was his game, he should have recognized it by now. But as the seconds ticked by, and Shindou maintained his curious gaze, Akira slowly removed his hands from the board.

            "…well?" Hikaru asked, thinking that Touya had decided to ignore him.

            "It's _your_ game, Shindou," he responded gravely.

            Taken aback, Hikaru peered even closer. "Really? When'd I play this one?"

            Touya's mouth dropped, amazed at the blatant ignorance coming from his rival, especially since Hikaru's greatest strength was his ability to memorize positions, games, and patterns. "You're joking, right?"

            A few seconds later, Hikaru shook his head, his eyes still focused on one spot of the board. "Nope, it's not ringing any bells. I don't see how _you_ could remember it."

            "It was the final round of the North Star Cup," Touya said slowly, an incredulous tone in his voice. Was he pretending again? Was this even Hikaru? After the events of the past few days, Touya was not ready to rule out the possibility that there was a psychotic Shindou twin out there.  

            Hikaru squinted at the board, as if it was his eyesight that was barring recognition of the game. "Is it really—oh, yeah! It is! I remember!" For a moment, Hikaru's eyes registered fear. He looked at the board as if it were holding a gun to his face, as if it was broadcasting his darkest secrets. But, almost immediately, he looked up with a bashful grin which only sent more waves of anger through Touya's veins. 

            The grin came down immediately when Hikaru saw his companion's enraged features. "Ok, sorry. Calm down." He seemed _too_ nonchalant about it, the voice too manufactured.

            "You would have recognized that _instantly_ a week ago!" 

            Hikaru could say nothing to this, and merely looked down.

            "What is _wrong_ with you? First you invent some crazed story to account for Sai, involving a thousand-year old _ghost_ of all things, and then you don't even recognize one of your own best games?" Touya shot up out of his seat again, once more simulating an earthquake on the goban.

            "I did _not_ make Sai up," Hikaru said determinedly, through clenched teeth.

            With a frustrated sigh bordering on a yell, Touya threw himself back into his seat. He breathed deeply. "Ok, pretending for a second here that you make a modicum of sense, and let's clarify your story. You were _possessed_ by a ghost of an ancient Go tutor?"

            "From the Heian era, yes," Hikaru agreed weakly. 

            "So let's check some records. If Sai was a member of the Fujiwara clan, he must be mentioned in every book on Feudal Japan in the library!"

            Hikaru shook his head, realizing how weak and feeble his excuse sounded. "That's no good, I already tried. I asked my history teacher to look it up and he didn't find anything."

            "Well, I wonder why that could be." Touya rolled his eyes.

            "_Because_," Hikaru said through clenched teeth, "like I said, he was accused of cheating. Driven out of the emperor's palace, remember?" It sounded like a plausible enough explanation. "He was probably erased from all the records, right?"

           The look on Touya's face said that he didn't buy the story at all, but it could not be easily countered, so he continued. "And then he possessed Honinbou Shuusaku, eh?"

            "Right. Torajirou was already interested in Go, so Sai found it easy to convince him to let him play."

            "Do you have any _idea_ how badly you're disrespecting Japan's greatest player by saying all this?"

            "I'm not disrespecting Japan's greatest player. Sai was Japan's greatest player."

            Touya's face clearly said that it was taking all the energy he had to keep from punching Shindou then and there. "Let's be realistic. How could a soul, having not played for a _thousand_ years, come back and beat my father within three or four years of starting again?"

            "I don't know!" Hikaru flared. "But here's a better question! How could _I_, Touya, having never played a game in my life, come and wipe the floor with you?"

            Touya's mouth fell limp, and the resolution in his voice faded, replaced by uncertainty. "I… don't know."

            "Yes, you _do_, I just told you! That wasn't me playing! What you saw at the junior high tournament, _that_ was me! The internet, the games at the salon, the game you saw me play before, those were Sai!"

            Touya breathed deeply, and Hikaru wondered what was going through his friend's mind, whether his argument was getting through at all, or only intensifying the hate aimed in his direction. "And more important than any of that, why am I losing it? Why can't I play anymore? Why can't I recognize my own games?"

            Touya remembered the brief, almost instantaneous, pained look that had crossed Hikaru's face after recognizing the game, but nonetheless, he didn't understand what Hikaru had just said. 

"I know it sounds unbelievable, but-"

            "But it's impossible." Touya shot up out of his seat, and stomped towards the cash register. Grabbing his backpack from Tachikawa-san, who looked immensely surprised that Touya was storming out angrily rather than Hikaru, he walked out of the room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

            Hikaru spent the next hour staring sullenly at the board, partly replaying the conversation they'd just had, partly being angry with the goban for his inability to remember the game on it. He could remember the moves themselves, now that he concentrated on the memory. But the meaning behind each move, the deeper insight that made him love go, was dwindling. His twenty-fifth move had been the crowning achievement of his game, starting a fierce combat that had impressed all those watching with his spirit, even though the game had ultimately been lost. The move had been an extension, attaching underneath another white stone. Suddenly, that hand no longer made any sense—now white could cut! He read ahead three moves, saw that simply connecting his stones solidly _had_ to be the better play. It was so obvious, so why hadn't he done that?

            "Hey, ojii-san!" Hikaru called across the room to an old man that had just paid. "Can you come over here for a second?" Shindou had become a common sight at the go salon, his strength, matching that of Touya's, was legendary, and the old man was only too glad to oblige the summoning. "Yes, sensei?" He inquired eagerly after shuffling over to the table.

            Hikaru pointed to the board, "Remember this game?"

            The old man nodded. "Of course I do, I'd never forget such an excellently played game."

            "What would you say if J15 was at H17?" He demonstrated by taking the vital stone and connecting instead.

            Thinking he was being tested, the old man tried not too look too pleased with himself. "I'd say that's a vulgar move. It appears to connect the black stones, and it does, but it lets white jump out with this group here." He dug his hand into the bowls and showed his way of thinking. "White loses two stones and doesn't manage to cut black, but the strength he gains in the center cannot possible let black be happy with himself." He looked expectantly at Hikaru, expecting praise, but the boy's face showed only confusion.

            "G18… strength in the center? Who cares… black needs to stay connected." Hikaru muttered under his breath, trying to wrap his mind around the concept of an exchange, but he couldn't. He could not longer see the value of long-term influence. What had he been _thinking_? Go was a game of surrounding, and that's what he should have done! 

            "Shindou-sensei?" The old man seemed concerned.

            "What are you talking about?" Hikaru demanded loudly. "What strength in the center?"

            Taken aback, the man pointed nervously at the variation he'd put on the board. "Er, that one, Shindou-sensei. I'm no pro, but I saw Ogata Ju-dan go over that exact variation. Central strength were his exact words!"

            What did Ogata know? Central strength… the words meant nothing to Hikaru.

            _"You just… you just put yourself in atari!" Waya whispered._

_            "No way…" Hikaru simply stared at the board, dumbstruck. Ten stones! Had he even realized they were in danger? He'd assumed a connection that wasn't there, completely overlooked a cut, and hadn't noticed that he'd put himself in atari!_

_            Waya's fingers were still on the stone. Slowly, he lifted it from the board, and put it back in the bowl. "It's a friendly game, want an undo?" He asked gently._

_            Hikaru shook his head slowly. Now that he stopped to look at the board, it was obvious he was decisively behind. The move needed to save his group was simply too much. With all the aji black had left behind in his positions, he could not afford to give white sente yet. But he had no choice—if he let the ten stone group die, white was as solid as he could ever hope to be. Assuming good play by white, black was behind by over forty moku. "No, that's OK," he whispered. "Makemashita."_

_            Isumi, who had been silent during the whole game, looked at Hikaru with shocked, fearful eyes. "Shindou-kun… what was _that_?"   _

            Hikaru shook the memory from his head. That was nothing, a fluke. It happened to everyone. Title matches had been lost because of stupid mistakes. There'd even been games where a professional accidentally made an illegal move without noticing it. What about that game lost on time because one of the players hadn't realized it was his turn?

            Of course, mistakes happened. That game against Waya had been a mistake. 

            "_No it wasn't_," he said to himself. _"I played horribly that whole game. It's as if I'm back to 10-kyu."_

Hikaru gave the board one last glance, hoping for a revelation, but it did not come. He simply could not understand how Black 25 had been a good move.

            "Shindou-sensei?" The old man inquired once again.

            Hikaru stood up, letting the chair fall to the ground behind him. "Shut up," he grunted towards the old man, and walked coldly out of the salon.

            The cool night air was usually a sanctuary for Hikaru. It would numb all his other senses until all he could do was see the city lights and hear the noise of busy streets. He would be alone with himself, withdrawn into his own world, lost inside his own mind.

            But at the moment, his mind was a prison. 

            "What's wrong with me?" He muttered repeatedly to himself, saying the same words over and over again. "What's happening to me, what's wrong?" He tried to bring to mind games of his, usually well-known to him, his comfort. But now they would not come. Try as he might, he could not visualise anything beyond an empty board. Had he played komoku or hoshi first during his game with Touya Akira in the first Preliminaries for the Meijin League. Had he been black or white?

            Had he won? Lost?

            Hikaru thought about tsumego. He could still remember a position from a professional life and death book he had been working on. White to kill. He struggled to visualize the position, and find the vital point. But to his mind, black's position was a fortified castle, one that his meagre skills could not bring down. Hikaru quickly abandoned it.

            "What is wrong with me?" He repeated as he turned into the wooded path that was the quickest route from Touya's salon. He remembered the first time he had taken it—right after the first game Sai had played through him, the total victory against Touya Akira. He'd been worried about the history homework he'd have to do when he got home. Sai had helped him, and he'd gotten 100%.

            "Sai…" he spoke softly. He felt strangely guilty that he'd told anyone of his existence, and even more guilty that Touya didn't believe him. "I'm sorry."

            A sound suddenly broke Hikaru's concentration. He whirled around. There was nobody.

            A rustle of cloth. Hikaru whirled around, not knowing exactly the cause of his paranoia—it was an open wood park. Suddenly, the source of the sound caught Hikaru's eyes, and he gasped. A white robe, hemmed with light violet blew in the wind. The robe covered the man's whole body, his head being the only part visible. Long, flowing violet hair poured down from a large, tall hat.

            "Sai!"   


	4. Illusion

            **CHAPTER 4: ILLUSION**

"Thanks!" Waya called back to the lady at the counter. "I'll just be printing out these sheets, OK?"

            The woman looked curiously at him. "That's an awfully big pile of paper… what exactly is it?"

            Waya flipped over the top page of the pile face up towards the counter, showing the diagram of a board and stones. "Kifu," he said simply.

            "Is that… go?" she guessed. Waya nodded, and grabbed three more printouts from the tray, waiting as the fourth came out. "Why do you need that many games?" she asked.

            "They're all played by the same person. A player called Sai."

            "Is he good?"

            Waya anxiously pulled the last sheet out of the printer, added it to the teetering pile, and opened his backpack. "The best player in Japan, if not the whole world."

            The woman watched as he stuffed the giant pile in his backpack and slung it around his shoulders. "One more thing, do you sell soft drinks here at cyber café's? I don't come here much, so I'm not sure." 

            "Yeah, we do," the cashier pointed at a large vending machine on the opposite wall. "They're 200 yen each."

            "Thanks," Waya said as he passed by her, pumped two coins into the machine, and withdrew his drink. He waited until he'd left the café to open it at an arm's length away, lest it should explode on him. Gulping it eagerly, he set off towards Shindou's house, shouldering the heavy load in his backpack. 

            "Heh," Waya spoke to himself between sips, "this'll be a treat for him. He seemed really concerned about Sai during our last meeting." More than for Hikaru's sake, however, Waya himself was very interested in Shindou's connection to the legendary Sai. Ever since Hikaru had guessed Sai's message to Waya on the Internet, before they'd met as Insei, there had been a lingering suspicion between them that neither cared to address. Although Waya had accepted the idea what Shindou was not Sai himself, a fairly simple thing to acknowledge, judging by the gap in skill between them, he refused to believe that there was no connection at all—that they did not, at least, know each other. 

            The newest reappearance of Sai's name in their conversation had sparked his interest once more. He hoped that the kifu, all the games Sai had ever played on the Internet, including the one against Touya Kouyo, would give Waya some idea, some hint, as to what Hikaru and Sai were to each other.

            He paused for a second and looked up at the street sign, squinting to see it in the setting sun. It was a street he didn't recognize. He'd never visited an internet café before, and had had to rely on Morishita's daughter to give him directions to the place. He let the backpack fall to the ground and dug around in his pockets for the piece of paper that had served as a map. Pulling it out, he tried to find the unknown street on the hastily marked chart, but it wasn't there. She had only paid attention to the streets he needed to take in order to get from his house to the café, and Waya did not feel like turning around, going all the way back to his house, just to be able to find his way to Shindou's.

            He looked up. A man was waiting in front of the traffic light, checking his watch. Waya tapped him on the shoulder, and waited for him to turn around.

            "Ano, excuse me, but do you know where I can find Nerai street?" The man quickly glanced at the map and up at the street sign. Seeing that the map would be of no use, he looked up towards the sky, a hand at his chin. "I think… if you go this way," he pointed down the unknown street, "past the train station, there's this park. If you cross through it, you'll find Nerai street without any problems."

            Waya smiled. "Thanks, you just saved me a lot of time!"

            The man smiled back as the light turned green, and he began crossing the street. "It's no problem, Waya-kun."

            The boy looked after him with a mildly amused expression on his face. "At least _someone_ reads Weekly Go," he muttered before taking the street the man had indicated. He nervously looked left and right, as if he might accidentally miss a giant park. Just as he was nearing the train station, he looked to his right and saw the path leading into it. 

            The park shimmered in orange and gold. Even though it was still the middle of summer, the autumn hues seemed never to leave the trees. The yellows and reds were so bright that it seemed to Waya, as he entered, that even though it was night outside, inside the canopy of golden trees, everything was as bright as a summer morning.

           A scream pierced the euphoric silence and peace. Waya's head snapped to the left, towards the source of the sound. Someone, a boy, was screaming repeatedly, hysterically. Dropping his backpack and soft drink can, he took off in a sprint. He flew through the thick foliage, dodging the large trunks. The noise became louder, and Waya perceived with some amusement, that he was so caught up in Sai's mystery, that it almost sounded to him as if the voice was screaming that very name.

            As he drew closer, however, it could no longer be mistaken that that was exactly what was being screamed. Waya quickened his pace, covering the last layer of trees, and coming out in a clearing. The screaming was right above him.

            "_SAI!" the voice shouted once more. Although it was ragged from prolonged yelling, it's timbre was unmistakable. Waya looked up into one of the trees he'd just passed._

            "Hikaru!" 

            The boy looked down. He was standing on one of the thicker branches of the large tree, leaning against the trunk and grabbing it with his hands for support. He was looking out towards the clearing, but his friend's shout caused a temporary pause in his screaming, and he turned his head. His bangs covered his face, but fear and hostility still seemed to radiate from him. "Waya-kun!" He gasped in recognition. "Get out of the way!"

            Alarmed, Waya turned around completely, looking for the source of Hikaru's alarm, but could find nothing. He looked back up into the tree. "What are you yelling about?"

            Hikaru turned his head back towards the clearing, giving Waya a good look at his face. Sweat had mingled with blood from his nose and lip to give him a truly terrifying look. His panicked eyes darted quickly, as if tracking something's movement. "It's Sai," Hikaru answered, "He's got a sword and he's going to kill you unless you move _fast_!"

            At this, Waya conducted a more thorough search of the clearing. But except for Hikaru's hysterics, there was no movement or sound that he could see. "_Where?" he demanded, still scanning his surroundings._

            "HE'S CHARGING YOU!"Hikaru screamed at the top of his lungs, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

            Waya whirled around, but there was nothing. He craned his neck to see if there was anyone in the woods.

            Suddenly, from above, something fell on him. Waya collapsed onto the ground, and everything went black.

            For the first time since as long as Touya could remember, he had turned down a match request from his father. If hearing Shindou's first lie had slightly unbalanced his play, hearing his justifications for his lies would probably have gotten him his pro licence revoked.

            His father had known better than to be offended or upset by his son's refusal. Instead, he'd merely put back the two handicap stones he'd laid out back into the black bowl, and the bowls back onto the board.

            Touya stepped over his futon and picked up the phone, which had been ringing insanely next to him, as if shouting urgency. He pressed the talk button and held it up to his ear.

            "Touya residence."

            "Touya Akira?" a hushed voice spoke from the other end, and Akira found it vaguely familiar. "Yes, speaking." He answered.

"You know where Yomiuri Hospital is?" the voice asked. 

"Who's this? Who's calling?" Touya demanded. As familiar as the voice was, he couldn't place it. 

"Waya Yoshitaka. The 3-dan."

Touya vaguely remembered Waya and Shindou as being very good friends, and his pulse quickened. "Yes, I know where the hospital is. What is it?"

There was a pause on the other line, and he could hear Waya sighing. "Well, it's, um… rather an interesting case. Hikaru seemed to think there was someone attacking us, and felt it was necessary to tackle me from the top of a tree. Neither of us came out of that very well."

            "Attacked?" Touya's breath caught in it's throat. "By whom?"

            "Um, yeah. That's where it gets weird. He thought that Sai… with a sword… was trying to kill him."

            Touya pedalled strongly through the streets of Tokyo, earning many a dirty look from pedestrians and motorists who were forced to dodge him. The cover of darkness made his stunt doubly difficult and dangerous. The wind whipped his dark hair behind his unprotected head, his face a mask of determination. He didn't stop his mad journey until the hospital was in sight. Jumping off his bike and letting it fall by the curb, he ran inside the building. He was very familiar with Yomiuri hospital, his father having once spent two weeks in it after a heart attack. It was where he had played his legendary internet match against Sai. 

            He ran to the front desk, and demanded of the man, "Shindou Hikaru!"

            The man, shocked by Touya's brusqueness, looked at a clipboard. Touya was leaning over the counter. "Room 255" He said, still looking at the board. Immediately, Touya pushed off and went running down the halls, and into the elevator. Pushing the button for the second floor repeatedly, he took the short elevator ride as an opportunity to collect his thoughts.

            "You weren't lying, Shindou," Touya panted. "You're just insane."

            The elevator slowed to a halt. As soon as the doors opened, Akira continued running down the halls. He saw Waya standing outside a room.

            Waya turned his head as he saw the running figure close the gap. He frowned when he saw who it was, and turned back to looking through the window in the door. Touya could see that Waya's left arm was in a cast. 

            "He's in there?" Akira asked.

            Waya nodded sadly. "It's a rubber room."

            For a second, Touya thought he was joking, until the seriousness of Hikaru's condition hit him. He threw himself against the door, and looked in. Indeed, the walls were white and embossed, having a very soft texture. Hikaru himself was cut and bleeding in many places, with his arm also in a cast. Touya couldn't stand the sight of him, and turned back to Waya. "What exactly happened?"

            "I told you most of it. I found him up a tree in a park, shouting that Sai had a sword and was going to kill him. When he saw me, he tackled me from the top of the tree. With the best of intentions, I'm sure." He added loyally.

            He didn't know how to feel. Hikaru had been telling the truth. At least, the truth as he saw it. In his mind, there had indeed been a "Sai." But that meant that Hikaru had played all of Sai's games. And that wasn't possible either.

            "Isumi!" Waya called out suddenly, turning around. Touya followed his gaze, and saw a tall, dark man, about twenty-three, rushing into the hall, followed by a nurse.

            All three boys looked expectantly towards her. She walked up to the door, stood on her toes in order to see through the window. She took some notes before looking up at the three people arranged around her. "He's your friend?"

            They all nodded quickly. She took one last look at her clipboard before continuing. "Well, I don't know how to break it to you, but we think he's got schizophrenia."

            Those words seemed to echo in Touya's mind for eternity. For a second, the world seemed to spin, and he thought he would be sick.

            "What does that mean, exactly?" Isumi asked.

            "To put it bluntly, he sees things that aren't there, hears things that aren't there, and so on," she said. "In this case, he seems to think that there's a man named Sai after him. We don't know much about it, but it could be Sai is a person from his childhood, or a character that left a deep scar in him. Or perhaps just a figment of his imagination. In any case, it scares him deeply, to the point of insanity."

            "No…" Touya broke his silence. "He's thought about Sai for years. Dreamt him up about five or six years ago."

            The woman looked at him curiously. "Really?"

            "It doesn't make sense," Touya said, more to himself than to the others. "How could he play so well? Such a clear Shuusaku style without having ever studied him…"

            The nurse looked at him wearily, as if she thought Touya belonged in the rubber room with Shindou. "What exactly are you talking about? He's mentioned Sai before?"

"Yeah, he told me a few days ago… He think he was possessed by a ghost named Sai back in Grade 6," Akira admitted. 

The nurse scribbled furiously. "Thank you for that… is there anything else we should know about him? How does he do in school?"

"He doesn't go to school," Waya put in. "He's a professional Go player."

She wrote that down too. "Any… _behavioural_ problems we should know about?"

"No!" Touya shouted, alarming all three people. "He's not schizophrenic! He can't be! He can't play like that!"

Isumi looked at him incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

"The first game he ever played—and the second and fourth—he beat me. Hikaru could not have done that. It was Sai." Touya could not believe he was siding with Shindou. In his own mind, he was calling himself crazy. What he was saying made no sense, but neither did anything else.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the nurse said, in a voice that dripped dislike, pointing towards the room with her pen, "but take a look inside that room and tell me if you think that boy's alright."

With a growl, Touya spun on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Hikaru rocked back and forth nervously, not caring how stereotypically crazy he looked. He was cold, alone, and afraid, and that outweighed whatever the fools in the white coats thought of him. 

He could still see him, sometimes. The flash of metal. Hikaru would turn his head, catch a glimpse of his old friend; but it would be gone, instantly. 

Hikaru knew he was going crazy. Who wouldn't? His friend, whom he'd missed for more than three years, comes back and tries to kill him. There was no mistaking it. The hat, the robes, the eyes. The eyes, once filled with understanding and compassion, now hollow and full of vengeance.

"What did I do, Sai?" he whispered, his teeth chattering, trying to keep himself warm with only one functional arm. "What'd I do wrong? Is it because I played Go? Did I not let you play enough?"

The dark room didn't answer.

"TELL ME!" He shouted. The rubber walls did not echo—his plea was swallowed immediately.

            Would Sai go after his friends, his family? Did the anger and vengeance go that deep? Questions kept Hikaru from sleep, his eyes open for hours at a time. 

            _Click_

            Hikaru's head shot up, a flash of pain crossed his vision from his arm. The doorknob was turning. He shot up from his seat, the only piece of furniture in the room, and backed towards the rubber wall.

            The door opened slightly, showering the room with a  thin beam of artificial light. It opened wider, revealing the familiar figure of the ghost. Hikaru's scream choked in his throat; he could do nothing.

           Sai's arm flew for the sword at his hip, and Hikaru braced himself. With a flick of his thumb, the sword was in his fist, ready to be drawn in a moment's notice. 

            Paralyzed with fear, Hikaru barely managed to edge slowly along the wall. Sai mirrored his actions, rotating like two boxers in a ring. He looked hopefully towards the door, the beacon of light. He kept his eyes on Sai, not wanting to alert the ghost to his plan. 

            ­"_Closer," Hikaru edged towards the light. _"Just a little bit more—"_ _

            Sai dived at him with his sword, and he barely managed to react in time, throwing himself down to the ground, rolling underneath him. 

            _Now!_

            Sai's sword was still pointed straight to where Hikaru's body had been seconds before. He shot to his feet and ran for the door. Not turning around to see how his attacker had reacted, Hikaru pulled the door shut behind him, hoping to delay him at least momentarily. He found himself in a brightly lit corridor, with three possible paths. He couldn't remember which way he'd been brought in, so he ran to the left—a purely instinctive choice.

           As he began running, hindered by his broken arm, he could hear the door to his room open, pushing him to run faster. He could see, at the end of the corridor, a door marked "STAIRS." He could hear and feel Sai's footsteps drawing closer. He wrenched the door open, passed through, and kicked it closed behind him.

            He ran down the stairs three at a time. The door had since swung open, and Sai's silent pursuit continued. Hikaru risked a quick glance behind his shoulder, and saw the ghost far closer to him than he'd expected, sword drawn, a solemn look on his face. Without thinking, Hikaru took his good arm, and vaulted himself over the railing to the next set of stairs, a two metre drop.

            He hit the ground hard on his side, and rolled the rest of the stairwell. Pain, especially from his injured arm, raced through his senses, and nearly rendered him motionless, if it hadn't been for the haunting pursuit. As quickly as he could, Hikaru got back up onto his feet and began jogging down the stairs once more, relieved that Sai was now almost a whole stairwell behind him.

            He could see the last flight ahead of him. Jumping the last five stairs in one leap, he opened the door and ran through, not bothering to slam it shut behind him this time. He was in the hospital lobby, the double doors leading outside were clearly visible. Two doctors had just stepped out of the elevator. Hikaru caught their eye, and bolted for the door, making his way once more into the cold night air. It was almost dawn, and traffic on the streets was at it's minimum. 

            Without taking another moment to think about it, Hikaru ran across the street and away from the hospital.


	5. Truth

**CHAPTER 5: TRUTH**

_When all other possibilities have been eliminated, the only remaining choice, no matter how unlikely, must be the correct conclusion._

Touya could not remember where he'd read that, but it seemed to fit in perfectly with his present situation. Hikaru could not be lying about Sai—he would not endanger his life, and that of his friends, simply to carry a joke. And now, more than ever, despite the nurse's argument, he could not believe that Hikaru was crazy. It was simply impossible that Hikaru had beaten him, his father, and the best players from around the world, by himself. There was no _way_ Hikaru had been born into the world the best player ever.

            So that left only one possibility. Shindou was neither lying, nor crazy—he must be right. 

            Touya's cell phone rang for the tenth time that hour; ever since his outburst at the hospital, Waya and Isumi had been plaguing him for details of Shindou's confession, details which Akira was not ready to disclose. He checked the Caller ID display, and hissed in annoyance—Yoshitaka. Clicking the talk button, he angrily shouted into the receiver. "Waya-kun, I don't _CARE_, I am not telling you anything about Sai!"

            "It's not that!" He responded, as if afraid that, given enough time, Touya would hang up on him. "It's about Hikaru!"

            "Of course it's about Hikaru. What about him?" 

            "His mom just called—he jumped the hospital staff and ran out of the building."

            Touya let this sink in. "He…_WHAT?_"

            "Yeah," Waya confirmed glumly. "He didn't say a word, but the nurse says he seemed extremely scared of her when she entered his room. He probably thought she was Sai. Either way, he's gone, and nobody saw where he went."

            "Gone? What do you mean gone? You've got a country-wide celebrity in a hospital gown with a cast on his arm who acts as if he's being chased by a ghost with a sword and you're telling me nobody can _find_ him?"

            "Don't shoot the messenger." Waya growled. "I'm just telling you what Shindou's mom told me. If you think he's that easy, go find him yourself."

            Without responding, Touya angrily hung up the phone. "Well, of course I'm going to go find him myself." He muttered under his breath. He crossed his room, grabbed a coat from the rack, and flew into the living room. "I'm going out." Before anybody could stop him, he was back outside in the rising sun, and was on his bike.

            Touya was very confident in his theory about where Shindou could have gone. The last time he had fled home, albeit in order to _find_ Sai, not to run from him, Hikaru had gone to Innoshima. As the birthplace of Honinbou Shuusaku, he had considered it the most likely place for Sai to have disappeared to. This was what Hikaru had told Touya, and he racked his brains for more clues as to where he could have gone. One thing was clear—Hikaru needed to leave the city, somewhere where he could not be found. Instinct, pure gut impulse, told Touya that that was where he would find him again. 

            Touya turned his bike towards the ferry dock.

            Hikaru comforted himself with the thought that, at the very least, Sai was very, very far away. For all he knew, he could be back at the hospital. He chuckled at the thought of a sword-brandishing Sai dealing with armed Hospital staff. 

            It had taken all the money he could find on the ground to afford the ferry ticket to Innoshima. Hikaru really had no idea why he was going to Innoshima—he wanted to escape Sai this time, not find him. But outside of Tokyo, it was the only place he knew. Also, a small corner of his mind still hoped—still clung to the ray of light—that this was not the real Sai. That this was just an impostor out to get him, and the only way to prove this was by finally seeing the real Sai, seeing him just once more; not to be with him, but simply to reassure himself.

            But now, as Hikaru stood on the docks of Innoshima, the rising sun casting long shadows over the bay, he realized he was too frightened and insecure to see anyone, living or otherwise. The streets were still blissfully empty as he walked them, still eying the ground for change. If nothing presented itself, he supposed, he would have to play a few bango in the morning, beating unsuspecting old men for cash. 

            Almost unconsciously, he found himself heading for Shuusaku's birthplace, where he had visited with Kawai-san three years ago, searching for Sai.

            _Searching for Sai,_ Hikaru thought to himself as he walked, _is that what I'm really doing? I'm running away from that man; but why am I here? I don't really believe that's Sai, do I? _

            _Branded as a cheater, I was driven out of the capital. I no longer wished to live… I drowned myself two days later._

Remembering these words, Hikaru headed towards the lake.

            Touya and his bike were the first things that rushed out the door of the ferry as it opened to the docks of Innoshima. Before the large sliding door had even finished lifting, Touya had ducked under the crack, gotten on his bike, and started pedalling. He racked his brain, trying to remember all the places Hikaru had named when telling him about Sai. The first place he and his friend Kawai-san had gone to had been his birthplace, and Touya hoped that that was where he was heading now. His knowledge of Innoshima island was limited to the few books he'd read about go history, and his own sketchy knowledge of Honinbou Shuusaku. 

            As he pedalled frantically, often uphill, Touya wondered exactly what he would do if and when he actually found Shindou. Would he make him come back to Tokyo? That would undoubtedly mean lots of time in the asylum for Hikaru—probably a high-security one too, seeing as how Shindou had escaped the first time. Would he force Hikaru to talk to him, to tell him more about Sai, and about the spectre now chasing him, so that Touya could form a more accurate and unbiased opinion of Hikaru's mental health?

            _That's the last thing Shindou needs_, Touya flinched as he struggled to pedal up the steep uphill slope, _another person telling him how crazy he is, how he should pack up and go to the rubber room again._

The sun had finally entered the sky in full force, marking the end of the longest night Touya had ever gone through, as, he was sure, it was for Shindou. The pink rays reflected off the waters of the lake that Touya had reached. It was a small, isolated pool, flowing nowhere, hundreds of metres above the rest of the world. It was secluded from the rest of the world, a few hundred metres off the road that Touya was on. 

            He stopped pedalling for a few minutes, gazing lovingly at the waters, letting the calm waves soothe his turmoiled soul. He was about to hop back on his bike and reluctantly leave the beautiful scene when he saw some large ripples disturb the placidity of the waters. Touya looked closer. Somebody had waded into the water, and was now waist-deep in the lake. A sudden premonition struck him, and without thinking twice, he jumped onto the seat and pedalled frantically downhill, his sense of dread increasing by the second.

            It was Shindou.

            As he neared the edge, he jumped off, letting it fall and slide in the mud. He ran up to the edge near the boy, now in water up to his chest.

            "Touya-kun," he said significantly. "Why're you here?"

            "What are you doing?" Touya demanded.

            Hikaru looked warmly down at the water, as if it were a beloved friend hugging him. "I've figured it out. It's all clear now."

            "_What _have you figured out? What's all clear?"

            "This is the place…" Hikaru paused to wave his hand around the lake, as if making sure Touya wasn't missing what he was referring to, "…where Sai died. The real Sai."

            He shook his head unbelievingly. "What are you TALKING about?"

            "Can't you hear him, Touya?" Hikaru asked eagerly, ignoring him altogether. "But then, you probably wouldn't have seen the blood on the goban either." He took a step deeper. "I never knew what it was that made me special. Why Sai chose me."

            Touya edged closer to the water, holding his hand out. "Come back Shindou. We need to talk. I promise I won't turn you in. I won't do anything you don't want to do. Just step out of the water!"

            "You know, he never said he died near Edo, the capital. He just said he drowned himself two days later. It's here, I just know it is. I can hear him." He walked forward until the water was splashing his face, flowing past his chin.

            There was an edge of panic in Touya's voice. "Shindou, come back. Come back and we can go down to Shuusaku's graves, to his home, to the castle, wherever you want to go. We'll find Sai again together."

            He laughed happily. "But, why, Touya-kun? He's right here. Just a bit farther. He's right here." With those words, he took two more steps, and disappeared completely from sight.

            Without missing a beat, Touya dived into the water immediately, ignoring the biting coldness. He opened his eyes, swimming forward desperately, looking everywhere for Shindou. The ground was still too high for the water to be over Hikaru's head, so Akira swam further. There was a sudden drop in elevation, explaining his sudden descent under the water. 

            Touya came up for a breath before going back under. He pushed his body downwards, ignoring the pressure and temperature of the water. His head turned in all directions, searching desperately for his friend. Finding nothing in the murky water, he went up for another breath before proceeded deeper. Touya could now see the darkness that must be the bottom of the lake. He was still too far up to make out anything on the lake floor, so he went even deeper, his ears feeling as if they would explode. However, as he went deeper, he could make out a body, lying prostrate on the bottom, sprawled out. Encouraged, Touya put on a burst of speed, reaching the bottom.

            It was not Hikaru.

            It was a skeleton. Looking like it was a thousand years old, the remains of a body lay at the bottom of the lake. More amazing than the skeleton, however, were the clothes it wore. A long, white robe, reflecting the new sun's rays despite the depth, laced with purple along it's edges, lay on the bare bones. Next to the skeleton's head, pushed down by years of water current, was a tall, black hat, now deteriorating, yet unmistakable.

            And on top of the robe's chest, was a fan, spread open, proudly bearing the Japanese kanji for _Igo_ on its front. 

            Grabbing the last of these items, Akira pushed off the sandy bottom, and shot back up to the surface.  


	6. Death

            **Author's Notes: This is the final chapter of "A Mind of His Own." It's been fun, and thanks to everyone for all their support! **

**            If you sense shonen-ai in the following, beware: you may be a fangirl! The emotions expressed are purely that of strong friendship and brotherly love. Enjoy!**

The warm breeze tugged at the thin bud connecting the delicate petal to the branch of the tree. The small flower fluttered frantically, overcome by the faint gust. With a sudden release, the bud gave way, and the _sakura_ blossom flew into the air, carried by the wind. It was framed by a beautiful, tranquil scene—the mountains and lakes of Innoshima gazed fondly at the small, fragile speck of color as it danced among them, slowly making its way back down to the ground. It finally came to halt, softly, on a pale face. The closed eyes did not flinch, showed no response to the petal.

            Touya Akira gazed at the small _sakura_ blossom, with a feeling bordering on anger and resentment. Nothing should be this light, this beautiful, this frivolous, when he was so distressed inside, and as Touya looked at the small petal on Shindou's white face, he was convinced that the blossom was intentionally spiting him.

            Nothing should look that happy, when Shindou Hikaru was dead.

            His body lay in the slate-black coffin, surrounded by ivory-white lining. He was sharply dressed in a deep blue suit, the same one he had worn during his fateful confession to Touya. The tie, crisply bound and folded, gave an overall formal, rigid look that did not suit him at all. His blonde bangs were neatly combed and positioned over his ears. His hands clutched five bright-red roses, arrayed in a pattern across his chest, arms folded neatly over his body. His eyes were closed, peacefully, and his mouth was faintly curled into one final, satisfied smile. As Touya looked at his friend's serene face, he realized he was envious of the peace Hikaru had found. Peace that Touya Akira no longer had any hope of ever finding.

            There was a rustle next to him, and Touya turned to face the source of the sound. Waya was looking stonily at Hikaru's face, standing stoically and not moving save for the occasional shuffle of feet. Touya did not know him very well, but he could see the unshielded pain in those unabashed eyes. "Why?", Waya whispered, the first words Akira had heard in a long time. 

            "Why what?" Touya asked. His mind was on alert.

            "How'd he die? _Why'd_ he die?" His eyes turned up, asking the questions to nobody in particular. Beside him, Touya had become very uncomfortable. "I… don't know."

            Waya turned one eye to look at his nervous face. Touya was looking at the ground determinedly. "Well, come on, Touya, don't tell me you haven't thought about this. You find Hikaru dead in the middle of the road. He's not injured… there isn't a scratch on him. What's your guess?"

            He misinterpreted the discomfort and fear in Touya's posture. "I don't know…" he repeated stubbornly. He looked at the ground when he spoke, and mumbled in a monotone voice, as if reciting a rehearsed speech. "I already told you, I was looking for him in Innoshima, and after a whole day of searching, there he was, just lying there. I took him to a hospital and he was proclaimed dead. I don't know when he died, but it couldn't have been too long before I found him or someone else would have seen him before I did. I don't know how he died either… your guess is as good as mine."

            Waya craned his neck to look Touya straight in the eye even though he was staring straight down. "Why Innoshima?" He asked simply.

            A brief flicker of misgiving shot through Akira's eyes, and were quickly covered. He looked away from Waya's accusing glare. "Lucky guess."

            "Yeah, right."

            "It was as good a place to start as any."

            "No, it wasn't. It's four hours away, on a _ferry_. It's the last place most people would look."

            Touya inhaled and exhaled deeply. "I don't know." He said in a tone that clearly ended the conversation. With a scoff, Waya turned his head back towards the coffin. 

The small green clearing near the sea separating Innoshima from the mainland, seemed to Touya as large as ten oceans. He knew he would always feel that way from then on. He could never return back to normal. Not anymore.

            The landscape was dotted by the small, outdoor funeral. A pack of mourners dressed in dark hues—blacks and blues that only enhanced rather than destroyed the bright tranquility of nature—were the only people visible for miles, and they all faced the large, wooden coffin. Although Touya did not recognize them all, he could guess who they were. A woman closest to the coffin, her body racked uncontrollably by sobs, was undoubtedly Hikaru's mother, whom Touya had never met. Her face was flushed red, he could scarcely make out between her hands, which she held in front of it. Nobody made any move to comfort her, but stayed several paces away, observing her misery, and afraid to share in a grief so great.

            Farther back stood a girl with a stony glare, her hand desperately clutching that of a taller, red-haired boy. Both of them looked at the casket determinedly, as if willing the body inside the coffin to spring back to life. Holding back a small sob, the girl wrapped her other arm around the boy's chest, and held him while he continued glaring at Hikaru with an amazing mix of emotions in his eyes.

            And all around him, professional players and Insei had gathered to pay their respects. Although Touya dared not look around at the crowd during a funeral, he could see Ogata-sensei, Kuwabara-Honinbou, and Kurata 6-dan out of the corner of his eye, their heads bowed. And he knew that, somewhere behind him, his father had also come.

            He stepped forward slowly, bowing respectfully, before walking up to the coffin and looking down, face to face with Hikaru. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a fan. With a snap of his wrist, he threw it open, displaying it's kanji proudly. It had since dried from it's long stay in the lake, and was in an impossibly good condition. Gently, he reached over the lid and laid the fan resting on Hikaru's chest, where his arms crossed, over the stems of the five roses. 

            He could hear Waya step forward beside him. "Hey," he whispered, "what're you doing?"

            Touya looked at the ground intently, not willing to meet Hikaru's friend's eyes. "Nothing, just paying my respects."

            "What did you put in there?"

            Touya turned around and walked back to the crowd. "Just that fan in there on his chest. It… used to belong to him. He'll be glad to have it again."

            There was a pause as Waya looked, confused, again into the coffin. "Where?" He whispered.

             Touya pointed to his own chest impatiently, demonstrating the place where he had laid Sai's heirloom.

            "There's nothing there!" Waya hissed.

            Touya was about to ignore him, when suddenly his heart fell. He could feel his body freezing on the spot. Slowly, he walked back to the coffin, his body drenching in sweat.

            Waya was pointing expectantly at Hikaru's chest. As Touya followed his finger, all he could see were five bright, vivacious roses, covered only by Shindou's cold, lifeless fingers.

            Shindou Hikaru never left Touya's memories—never. Although the blade of pain was eventually dulled by time, it still cut deep.

            He never told anyone the real occasion of Hikaru's death. After repeating the same story so many times, he often had to remind himself that he was lying—that his friend's death had not just been a freak coincidence. Just like Hikaru, the constant lies almost made him forget the truth. But he would not make the same mistake Hikaru had.

            The first time Touya Akira defeated Ogata and earned the Kisei title, he remembered Shindou. The first jubango against his father that tipped in Akira's favour, he thought of him. And the memories came back hard. He would accept his awards proudly, but in his heart, he knew that they were Shindou's. He owed the boy for his success, his passion, and his achievements. And those nights, Touya would repay those debts in tears. 

            They belonged to Shindou. He belonged to Shindou, and Touya never forgave Sai for taking him away. He never forgave that illusion, that lie, that dream that Hikaru had fallen into. And as Touya Akira watched more loved ones die and die, while still feeling Shindou's wound the freshest, he realized that he had never forgiven himself. He had let Hikaru change him, shape him—make him vulnerable. As a go player, he knew best that if you leave weaknesses, they will be exploited. Life had taken advantage of his most vital weakness; his love. And now, as Touya Akira's game drew to it's end, he could easily count the final score.

            He had lost. Without Shindou, he _was_ lost. 

            _Makemashita_.


End file.
